


ocean eyes

by laidellennt



Series: what i wish and what i know [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), but not really lmfao, hunk being a bud, im just trying to distract myself here, lance is in so fucking deep, that's all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-15
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-17 23:33:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12376419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laidellennt/pseuds/laidellennt
Summary: Lance was never really one for poetry.“Hunk, you ever seen eyes so beautiful that you just never want to look away?”





	ocean eyes

_burning cities_

_and napalm skies_

_fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes_

_his ocean eyes_

-

                Lance was never really one for poetry.

 

                There were plenty of other ways for him to express himself.  Words were the most effective. When he couldn’t find words, which was rare considering he knew two languages, he’d dance. When there was no music, he’d blast the radio, strum a guitar, or sing at the top of his lungs.

 

                The first time Lance really ever read a poem was in fourth grade. Before, he’d snooze through a class reading and schmooze answers off of his neighbor. He didn’t really care for what some dead person had written down in a dusty, smelly textbook. But then, a tiny little blonde girl with the biggest brown eyes Lance had ever seen shuffled over to him in the morning while he was shoving his bookbag into his cubby and held out a tiny pastel pink paper.

 

                Lance eyed the girl, he recognized her as a classmate, then the paper. She waved the paper a little, and when Lance’s fingers brushed over hers as he accepted it, her face flamed and she ran off to hide behind her friends, who were all watching Lance with expectant grins. Cautiously, Lance unfolded the paper and frowned at the swirly purple writing and the little hearts doodled around the paper. He squinted as he read the words.

_Eyes like the ocean._

_A voice like the smooth waves._

_I’m drowning in you._

_Will you go out with me? yes no_

                Lance remembered having to write a poem like that in class the other day, a Hike or something like that. He was kind of a flattered that a girl wrote about him. He was even more flattered that she wanted to go out with him. He’d only ever had one other girlfriend before, and she only dated him because he used to smuggle all his left over Halloween candy to school, and mama had told him not to go messing around with the girls at school, but what could be the harm? She was nice enough to do this for him, she was pretty cute, and Lance knew she packed Cosmic brownies every day for lunch. A win-win-win all around.

 

                They broke up three weeks later when she had tried to kiss him on the cheek and Lance squirmed away because of _cooties_. He still kept the poem hidden in a drawer in his room under his underwear and  read it every once in a while because it was still one of the nicest things someone had ever done for him, but his mama found it and his sister made fun of him so he tore it up and tried to forget about poems.

 

                Then, in 7th grade, Lance met Hunk. Hunk had been new to Lance’s school and a grade higher, and Lance saw him and thought _huh, he looks like he could beat me up_ so Lance decided to arm wrestle him and Hunk broke his arm. Hunk cried and catered to Lance’s every need and still was stuck by his side even when the cast came off.

 

                The first time Lance went over to Hunk’s house, they holed themselves up in Hunk’s bedroom to play video games on his new, awesome system and his new, awesome T.V. The first thing Lance noticed was in fact, not the giant sparkling television, but the huge bookshelf on the far wall and the desk littered in papers scribbled on in led and ink.

 

                “What’s this?” Lance had asked, skipping over to the table. He nearly tripped on a wastebasket, one brimming over with crumpled papers. He started to shuffle through the papers on the desk, all of them filled top to bottom, back to back with writing, but Hunk grabbed his wrist and gathered the papers to his chest.

 

                “Don’t!” Hunk breathed, moving to cover the papers taped to the wall.

 

                “Why? What’re they?” Lance tried pushing Hunk, standing on his tip toes, grabbing the papers from his arms. “You writing an essay for a class? ‘M not gonna cheat off you, promise.”

 

                Hunk shook his head, so Lance scoffed and plucked a paper from the trash. Hunk squawked and dived for it, but Lance skipped away and jumped onto his bed. Hunk cried and protested while Lance unfolded the paper. It was wrinkly and the ink was smudged, but he could still read it.

 

                “Are these...poems?”

 

                “No! It’s-“ Hunk sighed and deflated onto the floor, letting papers bundled in his arms flutter onto the carpet. “Yeah. They are. I know, it’s lame, and you can make fun of me all you like but please don’t tell anyone at school or-“

 

                “Hunk,” Lance interrupted, flopping down onto the bed. Hunk’s head shot up, tears gathering at the corner of his eyes. “This is really good. I didn’t know you wrote. Or read, for that matter.”

 

                Hunk crawled into the bed next to him and sniffed. “You really think it’s good?”

 

                Lance smiled. “Yeah, dude.” He picked the papers up off the floor and skimmed over those. “All of these. They’re all really good. You could make serious bank of of these. Why didn’t you want me to see?”

 

                Hunk stared at the wall. “I don’t know. I just thought, well, you’re so manly and tough and popular and I’m already geeky, and I know you’re my best friend and stuff-“

 

                “I do ballet.”

 

                “You what?”

 

                Lance flushed. “I do ballet. I’m really not as manly as you think.” To prove a point, Lance’s voice squeaks.

 

                Hunk laughed and wiped his eyes. “Okay, I’ll show you some more later if you want, but can we play this game? I didn’t spend three hours setting it up for nothing.”

 

                “Hell yeah!”

 

                “Lance, please don’t cuss. If my mom hears you she’ll call your mom.”

 

                And so, every time Lance came over, Hunk would let him read all of his poems. Hunk even wrote him some for Christmas and his birthday, which sent Lance over the moon. Lance bought Hunk a giant book of poems, and Hunk cried. Lance had even tried to write some poems, but they were never as good as Hunk’s, so he just settled on coming up with routines to perform in Hunk’s bedroom.

 

                Lance’s sister Lola ended up taking up poetry herself, despite all the times she made fun of Lance’s attempts at writing, and even won a couple of competitions. Lance tried to convince Hunk to enter some, but he admitted he’d rather keep his writing to himself. Besides, only the edgy deep stuff won competitions, and Hunk doubted his lyric poem on how amazing sushi is would even be allowed.

 

                When  Hunk turned 16, they both ended up enlisting into the Garrison. Hunk didn’t write anymore, which was a little bit of a disappointment, but Lance gave up ballet much to Hunk’s dismay, so they were even. Lance kept some of Hunk’s poems in the drawers beneath his bed and read them whenever he got bored of training manuals.

 

                And now, after becoming a Paladin, Lance finds himself missing reading Hunk’s poems. He had tried to bring it up, maybe sweet talk Hunk into writing him one or two, but Hunk had snapped “Does it look like I have the time to piss around with that?” and cried and apologized after, but Lance didn’t bring it up again anyway. He didn’t really think about the poems anymore after that either.

 

                Until now.

 

                Lance is sprawled across Hunk’s bed, head resting in his lap, while he tinkers with something in his hands. Lance groans dramatically and Hunk stops. “Something wrong, buddy?”

 

                “Hunk, you ever seen eyes so beautiful that you just never want to look away?”

 

                “Uh, I love you Lance, but if you’re about to go into a 10 minute speech about how amazing your eyes are again I really don’t want to hear it.”

 

                Lance frowns. “No no no, not that. I just have this feeling. Inside. I see these eyes and for some reason I just never want to look at anything other than them again.” Hunk’s quiet, so Lance continues. “ And they’re not even special, honestly, they’re probably the plainest pair of eyes, especially  now that I’ve seen aliens, but dude. Hi- _These_ eyes are sometimes purple in the light, like a nebula or the way a wormhole looks when we’re speeding through one. Sometimes they’re black, like the dark space around us, and all I can think about is the million of constellations that could dance in them. When they’re happy, they’re a warm fire on a cold December night that you gather around and drink hot coco. When they’re sad, they’re a pile of charred sticks and grey ash with the smoke of a dying fire pluming into the air. When they’re mad, they’re a volcano erupting and they’re the lava that consumes everything in its path. A wildfire that makes me afraid to get close because I’ll be burned.

 

                “When I was in fifth grade, a girl told me I had oceans for eyes. I thought it was because they’re blue, but I think I know what she means now. Because his eyes aren’t blue, they’re dark and stormy, but I can still fall and get lost in them anyway and drown.”

 

                Hunk draws in a shaky breath. “Lance, I thought you weren’t good at writing?”

 

                Lance blinks. “I’m not, but what does that have to do with anything?”

 

                “That sounded like an award winner, bud.”

 

                Lance’s face burns and he shuts up.

               

                “And uh,” Hunk continues anyway. “Could you possibly be talking about Keith’s eyes-“

 

                “Not a word, Hunk,” Lance growls. “Not a word.”

 

                He's already in too deep, isn't he?

**Author's Note:**

> I CANT WATCH SEASON 4 YET BUT IM STILL WRECKED FROM IT THIS IS HOW IM COPING OKAY SEND HELP PLEASE
> 
> the next work in this series will be from Keith's pov...idk how the HELL im NOT GOING TO CRY doing that BUT GOD


End file.
